Chocolate and ice cream- a song fic
by ginaromano2012
Summary: Hi guys! Another jesslock! Concoction! This time it is a songfic based on the song "chocolate and ice cream" by plumb, which could easily be one of the cheesiest songs ever. I love it, though. Sooo, I somehow decided to make it into a fanfiction for Sherlock and Jess. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

*You love it when you are with me  
I like to be where you are*

"Jessie! Please, hurry up!" I heard my boyfriend holler at me from outside the bathroom door. I rolled my eyes and unplugged the curling brush, fluffing my hair. I knew I shouldn't be so impatient with him, but I was having a hard time. "See, I'm done!" I said as I opened the door and kissed his pale cheekbone. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at me as I smiled up at him. "I just don't like being seperated from you right now..." He mumbled quietly, causing a guilty heaviness to settle in my stomach. Sherlock had been going through a bout of "separation anxiety" since his return.

He kept saying it was just because he had wasted enough time without me by his side, but I knew that wasn't the whole story. I heard him crying my name out in the night and it was always followed with him hugging me to him, usually followed by murmurs of unintelligible words, laced with affection and horror at the same time. I hadn't let him know that I knew about his nightmares, so as to not embarrass him. I had to fight the urge to hold him as close to me as possible and tell him things were going to be alright. He might've changed, but he hadn't changed so much as to lose his ego.

"I love you." I said, looking him solidly in the pale blue eyes, earning a small, tight lipped smile in return. "Can we just get this over with?" He asked, intertwining his fingers into my own. I sighed and nodded. The whole "gang" had arranged a welcome back party for him. It had been two weeks since he had "come back from the dead" and everyone was ecstatic. Molly and I were the only two that had known about his survival, so needless to say, the others were still adjusting. We walked, hand in hand, out of my flat and headed to the taxi awaiting us by the curb.

The second we crossed the entryway, Sherlock was pulled from me and smothered by his loving friends. Mycroft was the only one that hung back, giving me a forced smile as I was left in the dust. "Hello, dearest Jessica." He said, nodding a little in my direction and setting his umbrella down against the door frame of 221B. "Mycroft, how are you?" I asked politely, not really caring as I kept a keen eye on my beloved boyfriend who would quickly become overwhelmed by everything that was being thrown at him (not in the literal sense, John had already got that out of his system). I vaguely heard Mycroft answer in the positive. I nodded, smiling as I saw John properly introduce his fiancée, Mary, to Sherlock.

Sherlock took it quite well, surprising me. Apperently he had matured over the space of the three years that he was dead. He learned that he had to share the people he loved, because he wouldn't always be there for them. The thought made my heart ache, but I understood that it was important for him to know this. I walked into the kitchen that I used to spend so much time in. The past three years had been a big change for everyone. I leaned against the counter, thinking and playing with my necklace.

Everyone had been through so much. So much had changed. This kitchen used to be so familiar to me, now it felt foreign. I hadn't been to 221B in a couple of months, seeing as I usually visited John at pubs or when we went out for coffee. I frowned, feeling guilty once more. During those three years I always felt sorry for myself, wallowing in the fact that I couldn't feel Sherlock beside me more often, but I should've felt privileged. I was the only one that got to see him during that time.

John- his best and first real friend- didnt even get to. I only saw Sherlock every three months, if I was lucky, while he was away. He always came back bloody and battered, looking for help and a pair of arms to sleep in, but atleast he was there. He trusted me enough to let me see him while he was so vulnerable. I was lucky and honored.

It was hard to think about the good things. I had grown a pessimistic side during his time away, but I had to be optimistic for him now that he was back. Things changed, yes, but they could still be good. I sighed, feeling nostalgic, memories from before the fall flooding my mind. I had greatly missed the three of us always being together. I hoped that things could go back to the way they were, but that didnt seem likely. Not with John getting married in a couple of weeks.

I felt a hand slip into mine and a pair of familiar, warm lips kiss my cheek. I smiled, a small, tired smile. "Hello, Jessie. What are you doing in here?" Sherlock asked, his deep baritone a mere whisper. I looked up at him and saw the dark circles and worry that I knew he had been trying to hide for some time. "Just thinking." I murmured, reaching up and tracing a scar that was on his cheek. I remembered when he got that scar. It was the third time he showed up, unexpected, in my flat, his face had been covered in blood. I remember having yelled at him for getting into a knife fight with one of Moriarty's men, followed by me breaking down in his arms.

I felt Sherlock leaned into my touch, my fingers still on his cheek, his whole frame seeming to relax a little. I heard the tinkle of glasses and laughter come from the living room- everyone in high spirits. I wish Sherlock had the same carefree smile, but he couldn't. He wasn't just scarred on the outside, I knew that. I also knew that I might never see another childish grin or hear another belly laugh come from his lips. He had asked me if knowing that, I still wanted him. I did. I had told him that I would always want him, no matter how damaged he became and it was true.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around my waist and I set my cheek against his warm chest. He had never been one to show a large amount of affection, but that was before he was taken away from those he loved. Sherlock now took every oppurtunity to show me how much he cared. It was still awkward and not completely natural, but he was trying. I nuzzled into his neck and hugged him tighter. I knew he was feeling conflicted, more so than I could possibly be feeling. I wanted him to know that no matter sat happened, I wasn't going to let go of him again. "It is going to be okay, Jess." Sherlock whispered into my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

I nodded, almost laughing at the situation. HE was comforting ME. How backwards. I pulled away a little, hands on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbone. He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. I wanted more, but I knew I couldn't- not with everyone else five feet away. "Oi! Sherlock! Jess! Come on, join the party!" I heard Greg's voice holler from his spot by the mantle, as if he had heard my thoughts. I felt Sherlock smile against my lips, causing a warmth to spread through my chest- maybe all wasn't lost. I pulled away and untangled myself from his arms. "Shall we?" I asked, giving Sherlock my hand as we walked back into the living room.


	2. Chapter 2

*I love it when you say baby  
Let's go, take a drive*

"Sherlock! I demand to know where we are going!" I giggled, tugging my arm out of Sherlock's grip. He turned around only to see me standing in the middle of the pavement, arms crossed. Sherlock sighed and came over to me, placing his hands on either side of my hips. "Come on, Jess, it is a surprise. Just allow me to surprise you once?" I frowned at his cute "puppy dog face" He had been trying to perfect it for some time now and it was coming along nicely. "But, Sherlock, I don't even know if I'm properly dressed!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands down to my sides.

"Come on, Jess. You ate fine, it is just a drive." My beautiful boyfriend said, looking down at me with sparkling blue eyes. I sighed, admitting defeat, as I walked over to the cab. Sherlock opened the door for me, crawling in behind. The cab took off before I realized that there were little black curtains over our windows, so as to stop me from seeing where we were going. I slowly turned towards Sherlock, a scowl on my face. "Is this really neccasary?" I asked, a little frustrated that he wouldn't even give me a chance to try and find out where we were going.

Sherlock scooted closer to me and tucked a piece of auburn hair behind my ear. "Yes, Jessie, it is neccasary." He said, using my nickname and coincidentally making me melt. Just hearing his voice- his calm, deep, creamy baritone- was enough to turn me into a puddle, let alone when he used my nickname. I was the only person that he had made a nickname for and for that I felt very special.

"Well, if you aren't going to let me see out the window, then I'll just have to get it out of you somehow." I responded, trying to sound innocent. This particular cab had a partician separating the front and back seat, so I took advantage of our privacy. "Sherlock, please do tell me." I asked, fluttering my eyelashes and biting my lip. Sherlock frowned slightly, causing a little crinkle to appear in between his eyes. "No." He answered steadily.

I glared when he wasn't looking and tried again, "Sherlock, love, why can't I know?" I asked, putting my hand on his leg, causing him to flinch. He looked at me, eyes scanning my face. Dang it! I knew he would figure me out, it was impossible to hide anything from him. "Because, it is a surprise for the women I love." He said, slowly enunciating the last part. My heart skipped a beat, not just from his sweet words, but from the fact he hadn't called me out. If he had figured it out, he wouldn't have kept his mouth shut.

I scooted closer to Sherlock and put my legs over his, earning a confused glance from him. I studied his face: his beautiful pale skin, so pale it almost appeared to be porcelain; the way his black eyelashes framed his pale blue eyes in the most attractive way; the black curls that contrasted so dramatically against his pale cheekbones; and lastly, the way his lips appeared so soft and gentle. I smiled, wondering how I had earned someone so amazing, and the best part was, it wasn't just his looks. He might try to convince you that he only did what he did because it helped lessen the boredom, but that wasn't 100% true. He also did it because, sometimes, he cared.

That wasn't always the case, but some of the time it was. He was also the cleverest man I had ever met and will ever meet. But, it wasn't just intelligence, it was the way he could read people. He might not always understand what he read, but he was learning to understand it better with each basing day. I was so lucky, not just for Sherlock, but for everyone he brought with him. I got John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Greg, and even Mycroft out of it all. I had gotten a family and I was so thankful.

I leaned over and kissed the corner of Sherlock's mouth. He turned around, looking at me, confused. "What was the for?" He whispered, leaning in closer to me. I smiled, looking down at his pink mouth. "Mmm, nothing. I just wanted to say thank you for making me the luckiest women alive." I murmured, not really paying any attention to what came out of my mouth. I saw his lips curve up into a smile and caught his eyes twinkling.

"So, how long will this trip take?" I asked, my heart jumping around in my chest. "Around an hour, I would suppose..." Sherlock answered me, placing a hand on either side of my face and pulling my mouth to his. I responded immediately, kissing back with as much enthusiasm as possible. Sherlock pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around my sweater clad waist. My hands tightened themselves on the lapels of his trademark jacket. My mind went blank, completely forgetting that I was trying to get information out of the man below me.

Sherlock deepened the kiss, pulled me as close to him as he could. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand tangled up in his beautiful hair. I felt his large hand on my back, the other sliding down to my hip. He pulled away, leaving me gasping for breath. Before I could complain I felt his lips on my neck, causing me to close my eyes in bliss. He kept leaving small kisses on my neck and shoulder. I grabbed his face, pulling his lip back to mine. He moaned in response to me tugging at his curls. I felt his warm hand slide up the back of my sweater, shivering at the feel of his skin on mine. He was completely gentlemanly about it, leaving his hand on the middle of my back, not inching up any further.

This time I was the one to break off the kiss. A look of confusion flirted across his face before I started kissing his jaw. I felt his jaw tighten when I moved down to his neck. I slowly made my way back to his mouth, kissing the corner of it a few times before heading back into a full blown kiss. He hungrily kissed me once I allowed it, causing me to go light headed. I was busy sliding his jacket off of him, because I was getting warm from his warmth, when I was violently thrown from his lap onto the cab floor. I felt my head hit the back of the seat in front of me, closing my eyes against the impact.

Sherlock's hands were pulling me back onto the seat before I could open them once more. I heard the cabbi rap on the partition, Sherlock sliding it open. "Where 'ear, mate." The cabbi said, smirking slightly. Apperently he knew about the heated make out session that had been going in in his backseat. Sherlock grumbled a bit in response and grabbed my hand, opening the door. We both scooted out of the cab and stood up. I looked around myself, soaking in the soroundings. I gasped. It was beautiful!

I turned to see Sherlock paying the cab driver, muttering something to him, before the can took off. "Sherlock! It's amazing!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around my companions waist. He wrapped his arms around me in turn and set his chin atop my head. "I am pleased that you like it." I heard rumble from his chest. Sherlock had brought me to a garden. Not just any garden, but a garden that happened to be attached to what appeared to be a mansion. The garden was huge, with rose bushes and trelesses towering above me in a sort of labyrinth. I could hear the sound of water trickling, most likely a fountain, in the distance. It was pitch black out, except for the light of the moon.

"Where are we?" I asked, standing on my tiptoes and kissing Sherlock on the jaw (which was all i could reach, unless he bent down). "We are home. Well, my childhood home." Sherlock responded, unwrapping his arms from me and grabbing my hand. I smiled at the feeling of his long fingers wrapped around my shorter ones. "You grew up here?" I asked, my mouth hanging open. I had known he came from a wealthy family, but I hadn't known to what extent. I saw him nod as he led me up the twisting path to the house before us. "Do not fret, we have the place to ourselves. After father died, mummy moved closer to the city. We still own the house, though. I do believe she left it in her will, signed over to Mycroft." I hummed in acknowledgment, happy he was sharing a part of his childhood with me.

We never really talked about our childhood, mainly because he was so closed off about it. Sometimes I even wondered if he had deleted it, deeming it as unneccasary. I didn't even know his father had passed away. I had always just accepted that as part of Sherlock, but now he was sharing it with me. I felt privileged and special. He apperently trusted me enough to show me this. A wave of love flooded through me as we walked up the porch steps to the house. Sherlock turned towards me, the porch light adding a golden glow to his otherwise washed out face. "Jessie, I wanted to show this to you. John had told me that when you love someone, you want them to know the real you. He also said that your childhood memories are a part of you. I was not sure what to do at first, but John seems to... Know... More about this type of thing than I do. Also, I wanted you to KNOW that I care about you and that I... Well, that I need you." Sherlock ended his speech with a shy tone.

"Sherlock..." Was all I could say. It seemed so small amd pitiful in response to what he just shared with me, but I knew that he understood. He smiled, kissing me on the mouth, before grabbing my hand once more. "Would you like a tour?" He asked, eyes twinkling. I nodded, smiling at his excitement to do something for me. Sherlock opened the door and pulled me inside behind him. I shut the door behind myself and gasped at the echo it caused. The entryway was huge, with a large staircase leading up to the second floor and a few doorways off of each wall. Before I could say anything to Sherlock, I was pushed against the wall.

Sherlock caught my eyes, an evil little smirk on his face. "Like what you see?" He breathed, uncharacteristically flirty. I nodded, unsure of what to do. He grabbed my arms and placed them above my head, holding them in place with just one of his own hands. I felt his other hand grab my waist and pull me to him. His lips met mine as we continued what had been interrupted earlier. A small part of my mind wanted to hear the stories of his childhood, but the larger part told the smaller part to shut up. I felt his hand move from my waist down to my thigh as he brought it up around his waist.

I gasped, allowing him further access into my mouth. I couldn't believe how... Affectionate and passionate he was being, it just wasn't like him. He pulled away from me, earning a pout. Sherlock grinned and let go of my wrists. "I think we should go see the rest of the house." He said, chuckling at my face. I sighed and kissed his cheek, already missing the feeling of warmth I got while we kissed. As we walked up the staircase I decided to say what had been running through my mind since his speech. "Maybe you should talk to John more often."


	3. Chapter 3

I'm chocolate and you are the ice cream  
I love old movies at night

I heard a knock at the door just as I finished brushing my shiny, brown hair out. I smiled as I walked out of my room, into the living room and to the door. Sherlock was coming by tonight for a movie night. He seemed sort of reluctant about it at first, but we hadn't been able to spend alot of time together the past few weeks. So, this was the best oppurtunity for us to see each other. It was seven at night and I only got off of work an hour ago. I spent that hour running to the shop, picking out some things to eat and stopping at the Chinese place that Sherlock liked.

I was going to try and get Sherlock to eat, seeing as he just closed a case this evening, so he probably hadn't eaten in a couple of days. I reached the door and opened it, leaving the chain on. I saw the most gorgeous blue eye peek through the crack, causing me to grin. "Good evening, sir. Can I help you?" I asked, putting on my best professional voice. Sherlock sighed, leaning back away from the door. "Hmm, yes, I was actually looking for a place to stay. Wrong room! Laters!" He replied, a smirk in his voice as he walked away.

I quickly unchained the door and grabbed his coat sleeve, pulling him inside. "Not funny!" I pouted, winking. Sherlock crinkled his nose, all seriousness back in his features. "Do I smell Chinese?" He asked, taking his coat off and carefully hanging it the coat rack. I nodded, leading him into the kitchen and handing him a carton of vegetable fried rice- his favorite. Sherlock smiled, taking the cartoon and bending down to kiss me on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jessie." I smiled and nodded, just happy that I didn't have to fight him on eating. "How long has it been since your last proper meal?" I asked, following him out into the living room, my own carton of food in hand. Sherlock flopped on the couch, feet on the coffee table. I sat next next to him, turning so that I was looking at him.

"What is today?" Sherlock asked, carefully opening the flaps on the little cardboard box. "Mmm, Thursday." I answered, after glancing over at the calendar on my wall. "I ate breakfast on Tuesday." He replied, using his chopsticks to pick up some rice. I narrowed my eyes at him, deciding it was better not to lecture during our "date night". I opened my chow mein and soon the conversation started flowing.

&&&&&

"You actually caught the guy in the sewer?" I asked, giggling, a short time later. Sherlock nodded, his empty carton of food on the coffee table and his hand on his full stomach. My half eaten food remained in my hands as Sherlock and I spoke about his last case. "That's crazy!" I exclaimed, unfolding myself from my sofa and collecting our garbage. I walked into my brightly lit kitchen, disposing of the leftovers and washing my hands.

"What movie have you picked out for us tonight?" I heard Sherlock's deep voice call from the living room. I smiled, drying my hands off on a dish towel. Atleast he was willing to participate in our evening, which was nice. He didnt normally want to watch movies, as he deemed them "boring and predictable". I figured it must be because he was so exhausted. He told me he hadn't even gotten a chance to sleep, after two days on the go. I shook my head and grabbed the DVD off the kitchen table as I walked back to my boyfriend.

"Well, seeing as you hate mystery, because it is too predictable; science fiction, because it's unrealistic; romance films, for obvious reasons; and comedy, claiming not to understand the jokes" I took a deep breath, "I finally settled on a historical fiction that was based on a true story." I said, smiling. "It even has a little bit of romance!" I added. Sherlock smiled, looking impressed. "I approve." I nodded, inwardly rolling my eyes at his curt and stiff response. I opened the DVD case and popped it into the player, falling back onto the couch. I grabbed the remote off of the side table and hit play.

The movie was paused, seeing as I couldn't hold my bladder for a two hour film. I came out of the loo to see my lanky Sherlock stretched out on the sofa, eyes shut and fingers steepled. I smiled, quietly walking over and kneeling next to him. I brushed my hand over his curls and smiled softly. I giggled as Sherlock opened one dazzling blue eye and touched my cheek in return. "Tired?" I whispered, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment between us. "My system is demanding that I rest, though I wish to finish the film before I consent." Was the man's reply. I nodded and stood up. "I bought some snacks. I have chocolate, crisps, some beer, and ice cream. Would you like any?" I asked, heading towards the kitchen in pursuit of the slab of chocolate I had purchased earlier, not expecting a response from my boyfriend.

Sherlock's eyes lit up, stopping me dead in my tracks. Sherlock excited over food? Crap food at that? You learn something new everyday, I guess. "Well?" I asked again, waiting for his reply. "Since you have it... A bowl of ice cream would be lovely. Let me assist you." Sherlock hauled himself off the couch and followed me into the kitchen. I had to admit that I was happily surprised to find that even Sherlock had crap food weaknesses. As I rummaged in my cabinets for an ice cream bowl, Sherlock opened the freezer, a gleeful smile adorning his face.

"Why've I never seen you eat ice cream before? I wasn't even aware that you liked unhealthy food." I asked, setting a bowl and spoon in front of my boyfriend. Sherlock lifted an eyebrow in my direction, opening the carton before him. "Everyone has preferences, Jessica, I just tend to ignore mine. It makes me more efficient. Unhealthy fillers like this tend to slow my system down, make me sluggish. I am only allowing myself to indulge tonight, because I just solved a large case and have the night off." I blinked at the pale man at my kitchen table. "Do you enjoy anything about life?" I blurted out, before realizing my mistake.

Sherlock set the spoon down next to the carton and looked at me. "Yes. I enjoy quite a few things. I enjoy researching and learning. I enjoy solving crimes and puzzles. I used to enjoy narcotics, though I try not to anymore. Also, I enjoy you." I blushed at his blunt response. Although, Sherlock tended to keep to himself about his past, he wouldn't lie about it. "And, occasionally, I enjoy ice cream." He added on at the end, a childlike look on his beautiful face. I smiled, nodding. "Fair enough. Would you like anything to dress your ice cream with?" I asked, opening the fridge and grabbing my cold chocolate slab.

"No thank you. I prefer my ice cream untarnished. Shall we finish the movie now?" I mumbled an affirmative response and walked into the Telly area once again. We sat down, side by side, with the sweet treats of choice. I curled into Sherlock's side, tucking my legs beneath myself and turning the movie back on. Snapping a piece of caramel filled chocolate off and setting it on my tongue, I looked over at my consulting detective.

Currently, Sherlock was rolling his eyes and muttering something about the movie being "historically inaccurate" and shoving a spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream into his mouth. I leaned up and kissed his cheek, noting that he smelled like, said, vanilla bean. Sherlock smiled briefly before scolding the Telly once more.


End file.
